


Drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart

by holograms



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Basically, F/M, Hair-pulling, PWP, Post - A Dance With Dragons, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Woman on Top, and Jaime likes it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 08:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holograms/pseuds/holograms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This new thing with Brienne is pretty neat, and Jaime doesn’t intend to give it up anytime soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart

This new thing with Brienne is pretty neat, and Jaime doesn’t intend to give it up anytime soon.  He’s never been one to willingly give away something that he enjoys — simple proof of that would be how he’s strived long and hard to get his fighting skills back to a semblance to where they were before he was maimed.

His time is short, he knows, and he’s running it out until the dragon queen finds and executes him in a grand public display, or until he dies in some other way.  There so many ways for one’s life to end these days, so Jaime does what he can: travels a bit each day, fulfills promises kept, kills the dead that have risen.  Keep living until he doesn’t anymore.

He and Brienne survives as best they can, and so far they are proving to be quite resilient.  Some say that he doesn’t deserve to be living when so many other _better_ people have lost their lives.  They could be correct, Jaime muses, but probably not.  In actuality, those that are dead and gone have it better anyway; they get to escape the hell of this endless winter.

It’s Brienne that’s stayed when all others have faded away, and it is only logical that their relationship took this next step in its not-so-natural course ( _because what kind of song is this, with a damaged and disgraced knight and a lady knight that’s just as damaged as he?)._   Jaime thinks that they both are quite daft that they hadn’t done this sooner — he’d fancied the idea of it sometime around when she came back for him in King’s Landing, but did not dare to make a move until she took it upon herself one cold night, crawling on top of him and whispering, “Jaime, is this okay?”  He had laughed quietly as he brushed his hand against her back, wondering how long she had considered joining him in his bed — did she go over every possible outcome in her mind, worrying and fretting over it before she just couldn’t help herself anymore? — because that was just like her to over-think something such as that.  He found he didn’t really care what provoked her into action, and the only thing that mattered was that she was warm in his bed, so he reciprocated, kissing her hard and thinking of the many quips he could say, however the only answer he could muster was that it was _more than okay._

Brienne is rougher in bed than he had imagined she would be, but he realizes that he shouldn’t be surprised.  She’s brutal in battle, so he supposes that her acts under the blankets wouldn’t be any different.  After the first time, after she learns how it goes, she takes a quick initiative and is very eager to please and be pleased.  Jaime can attest that she’s had plenty of times to practice; they take their times together when they are able, mapping out each other’s bodies and learning what touches makes the other quiver and ache for more.

She’s the only thing that makes this whole damned ordeal bearable.

Her hands rake down his sides, fingers pressing against his ribs, until they rest on his hips where she grips hard.  Jaime instinctively rolls his hips forward, rubbing his hardness against her thigh.  A smile rests on her face, and there’s still some of that shy maiden there as she averts her eyes from his.  He never can resist a good chance to tease her, so he says, “You decide to be modest now after you jumped into my bed with craving for my cock?”

She makes a sound that could only be described as an irritated growl, and pounces forward and presses her mouth against his, biting at his bottom lip, and reaches down between them with a sure hand to stroke his cock.  Jaime lets out a moan at the contact of her touch on him, and that only seems to drive her more, tightening her grip on him and pressing her body closer to his.

“You are insatiable,” he says, pulling his away from her, her teeth pulling at his lip as he moves.  Her blue eyes gleam lustfully and she’s flushed on her face all the way down to her chest and gods, he’d never tire of that look of hers, the one where it looks as though she wants to rip him apart.

In a swift movement, Brienne hooks a leg around his waist and flips him onto his back.  Jaime knows her intention — the first time she had pushed him onto a feather bed in some inn in the Riverlands and crawled into his lap, she grinded her ass against his cock until he was pleading to let him fuck her.  It had not occurred to him that he’d enjoy the woman taking control, but the way Brienne takes does, making him be the one wither and come undone drives him mad.  Though, she always has been one to inspire new ideas in him.

She tempts him now, brushing up against him just enough for his tip to get a taste of her slickness before she pulls away, and then repeats the motion until he makes a strangled noise like a cat in heat and violently jerks his hips up, looking for entrance.

“Desire something?” she asks, trying to hide how her breath is hitching.  From experience with her, he can tell she wants, _needs_ it as badly as he does — her muscular thighs shaking with the strain of holding back, her nipples taut, her freckles standing out against her flushed skin.

“Now,” he grunts, and his fingers circle around her clit and finds her so so wet and wanting, his cock twitching at the thought of how she tastes.

She pushes away his hand, and presses herself against him again, this time letting the contact be longer, him slipping in only a little before she pulls away again.  “Insufficient answer.”

Devilish, she is, but Jaime knows that it’s his fault that he sullied her in this way.  He curls his toes and curses — his want is overwhelming and makes him dizzy and he’s pretty sure he’ll lose his mind if Brienne keeps on like this.  He wishes he can prolong it, because the before is just as sweet as the fucking, where they are on edge and gasping at the anticipation.  However, he gives in because he knows that he’ll break before she does, and he meets Brienne’s eyes and gutturally says, “I want your cunt.”

He’s smugly satisfied when he sees how his request makes her composure falter slightly, how her eyes widen and her mouth goes slack as if she still sometimes cannot believe how they ended up _here_.  Jaime finds it endearing.  Brienne quickly regains her exploit and says, “Good enough,” and lowers herself down on to him, and then he’s enveloped into a tight warm heat that makes him throw his head back and take in the sheer pleasure of it.

She finds a rhythm, a fast-paced one that Jaime matches thrusting up into her.  His good hand grasps at her hip, looking to steady himself while his world is tipping.  Desperate to drive himself deeper into her, Jaime moves sit up but she halts his attempt by forcefully shoving his shoulders back — hard enough that he’s sure that he’ll have bruises on his collarbones tomorrow — onto the makeshift bed they’ve made that’s blankets and furs piled together on the ground.  Now she has him, her arms on either side of him, leaning forward and towering over him.  She’s close enough that he feels her hot breath on his face every time she exhales, as well as how she takes in sharp breaths every time she goes down onto his cock — each of those times him getting closer and closer to his release.

His hand finds her cunt, and he runs his fingers through her now damp hair on her mound before taking his thumb and rubbing it roughly-but-not-to-harsh against her clit.  This time she allows him touch her, and she lets out a loud moan with his name on it, and he can feel her legs begin to quiver, and he knows that she’s close as well.  She’s magnificent and prime, and he’ll tell her so later, but now—

“Look how well you take my cock,” he says as best he is able, through breaths and his hammering heart in his chest.  “Maybe they were right to name you the Kingslayer’s whore.”

A glint flashes in her eyes that Jaime recognizes well, and she pushes a hand into his hair — now long and sweeping past his ears, like it was when they first met — and she takes a fistful of hair, enough to wrap her fingers around, and pulls hard.  Jaime gasps, his back arching, letting out a noise that could not be mistaken for anything but pleasure.  _Forget dragons and the Others_ , Jaime thinks, _she will be the death of me._

Intrigued, Brienne yanks at his hair again, and at the same time pushing herself down onto him, burying his cock deep inside her.  She rolls her hips, still grasping his hair in her hands, riding him relentlessly, and then she’s clenching around him and his name falls from her lips without restraint.  Moments later Jaime comes with a groan, pulling out and his seed releasing on both of their stomachs.

She collapses next to him, spent and breathing hard.  Jamie shifts so that he lies facing her, and he reaches down with his good hand to pull up a heavy fur to cover them.  It’s a few moments before Brienne glances up at him, and Jaime almost laughs at how innocent her sapphire eyes seem.  If only everyone else knew how the kind and honorable Brienne of Tarth has a wild hungering appetite while being bedded — but Jaime is glad it is only for him to know.

He brings his hand to her face, fingers ghosting over the scars on her cheek that have long been healed.  She does not flinch away.  Fondness echoes in his chest, and he thinks of the time that they are running short of, and he’s angry.

 “Jaime,” she says softly, “I wanted to let you know, in case we—”

“Hush, wench.  Not that, that yet.”  For now.

If he wasn’t so daft he’d tell her, but they need not tell — they both know, they always have.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick something while I stall working on other things. Thanks for reading, and feedback is always adored and appreciated!


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